


Together

by LadyKes



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Post-Season/Series 03, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26260246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKes/pseuds/LadyKes
Summary: Three vignettes about Jack and Phryne in 1939, 1943, and 1946.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: As the tags say, there is a very small mention of character death in this fic. It's not either of the main characters, but just in case even a minor character death is too much, I wanted to put this warning at the top.

Perth, September 1939

They’d originally gone to Perth for a vacation. Phryne had decided that they should spend a few days away from Melbourne and everything that went with it, so she reserved a suite at the Palace Hotel and hired a plane. Only then had she informed Jack that they were going, but he hadn’t had any objections. At first it had been lovely to explore the area and just be together. It had seemed like they were in their own little romantic bubble, even after so many years together. The bubble popped instantly when they’d woken up to the news that Germany had invaded Poland and they were all at war again. 

Without much conversation about it, they’d gone to the cenotaph at King’s Park. They certainly weren’t the only ones, but each group was walking and talking quietly enough that they might be. Everyone seemed shocked and saddened, which was understandable. Jack couldn’t help but think of how many more names would be added to the crypt in the next few years, and couldn’t help but wish that the War to End All Wars had actually been that. He’d known it couldn’t be -- people just weren’t that good to each other -- but he couldn’t help but wish it.

After a few minutes, he and Phryne made their way to a park bench within sight of the cenotaph so they could speak without feeling that they were disturbing others.

“Jane will volunteer,” Phryne said abruptly, still looking at the cenotaph, and Jack nodded in understanding. Jane was living in England now, and they both knew she would want and need to be involved. They would all need to be involved, but Jane was young and fit and was training as a nurse. England would need her.

“If she hasn’t already,” Jack agreed. “I don’t think they’ll want me, not at my age.”

He would do what his country needed him to do, but he wasn’t young anymore, and he wasn’t in the same condition. He was proud that he hadn’t developed the stoutness of some of the other detective inspectors, but he wasn’t as fit as he had been in 1914. 

“Of course they’ll want you, Jack,” Phryne replied, and the edge of flirtation in her voice was almost a relief in the middle of all of this. It was a bit of normality in a world he knew wouldn’t be normal for however long this lasted. 

“I’ll make a few calls,” he agreed seriously. He had to try to volunteer in some way, even if he was ultimately told he wasn’t needed. “Will you be joining a War Bonds Committee? Chairing a knitting drive?”

They both knew she wouldn’t do that, or at least wouldn’t only do that. Her position in Melbourne society even after marrying a copper might allow her to contribute mostly monetarily, but her conscience wouldn’t. 

“Oh, certainly, Jack, can’t you see me knitting socks and scarves?” she replied impishly. He couldn’t, of course, though he was sure Dot would be doing exactly that, and that was another concern. Hugh was younger than Jack. He’d been too young for the Great War, but he wasn’t too young now. Dot and the children would have to hope and pray, just like countless other families had done since the beginning of time.

“Certainly,” he said, but it didn’t quite get to his usual level of dryness and she flashed a glance that said she knew what he was thinking. It was comforting that she knew him so well. The world was tearing itself apart again, but for now they were together, and somehow he hoped they might survive this. 

London, October 1943

England was cold, it was damp, it was dark, and it wasn’t home. He might like it more if he weren’t there during a war, but he wasn’t certain of that. He wasn’t at all certain of that, just like he wasn’t at all certain about many things, both personal and professional.

He’d been in Blighty for a few months now. He’d started his war working with the codebreakers in Melbourne, but eventually they’d seconded him to Bletchley Park. He hadn’t had any idea where that was or why they needed him in particular, but he’d been told it had been something to do with his previous intelligence experience. Really, though, the reason didn’t matter. When one was ordered to go, one went, even when one was ordered to travel on a neutral-flagged ship through hostile waters for days on end, and so he had done. 

He had spent the last few months trying to think inside the OKW’s collective heads, which wasn’t a good place to be, but he was making progress. They were making progress, actually, since he worked with a brilliant, decidedly odd group of people. They’d continue to make progress, too, especially with some of the tools they had now. They’d keep intercepting and decrypting messages that would shorten the war and save the lives of Diggers and everyone else. He had to believe that, just like he had to believe that Phryne would come tonight. 

She’d been assigned to work with the French Resistance and parachuted into France some time ago. Contact after that had been necessarily spotty, even after he was on the same side of the world, and he hadn’t seen her in over six months. He’d last heard from her three months ago when she’d arranged this meeting in a flirty little message that he’d kept a copy of until it literally fell apart (in defiance of all rules about destroying such things immediately). They’d both known she might not make it to the meeting, that he might not make it to the meeting, but he’d come anyway. How could he not? 

She was two hours late. 

Perhaps he ought to accept that she couldn’t come. Perhaps he needed to realize that a world without Phryne Fisher might be a world he had to live in. He didn’t want to do that. He couldn’t fathom a world without her. 

Just then, though, the door opened, and she slipped in. He caught her to him without even realizing he’d crossed the room, and for a long time, neither of them spoke. The night was slow and gentle for both their sakes. She was thin and scarred, but she wouldn’t talk about it. She couldn’t talk about it, even to him, and he knew it. They’d both signed the Official Secrets Act. He also knew in the morning, they’d have to part again, maybe forever, but tonight they were together. For now, that was all that mattered.

Perth, November 1946

It was Phryne’s idea to go back to Perth, and it had been a good one, of course. They’d gone to the Remembrance Day Ceremony, then stayed after to place their own wreath. They’d stayed to mourn their own dead. Once again, they weren’t alone in either activity, but just like before, everyone spoke quietly enough that they might have been.

They’d made it through, and that was the most important thing. Phryne might never be quite the same, but she’d got most of her spark back. It had taken a worryingly long time for her to smile again after she’d been extracted from France. The first unshadowed smile had been when they received a letter from Jane, and the second had been the first time she’d seen Mac again. He and Phryne had been immensely relieved that both of the family’s medical types had made it through, though it was clear that Jane had also aged more years than she should have. 

Hugh had made it through as well, even if he hadn’t been as visibly unscathed as the rest of them. He was doing quite well at learning to walk on a prosthetic leg, though, and Jack knew that Phryne had quietly arranged for the Collins’ cottage to be fitted out with an array of items that would make his life easier. Dot had fussed at Phryne when the builders had arrived, but she knew as well as anyone that Phryne did what she liked with her money. 

The wreath they placed was for Bert and Cec. Neither of them had been drafted, but both had insisted on joining up. They’d worked -- schemed was probably a more correct word -- until they’d been placed in the same unit, at which point they’d been sent to El Alamein. They’d made it through that, unlike many of their comrades, and Jack had hoped they’d be as lucky as they’d been during the Great War. They’d been at each other’s side all the way to the end, all the way until they died next to each other on the Huon Peninsula, and they’d been buried next to each other in the cemetery in Lae. 

In the end, they were all together, in their own ways and in their own places, and once again, he thought that perhaps nothing else mattered.


End file.
